The Silence of Growing Things
by asimbelmyne
Summary: Hera's eyes had shown him things he hadn't been able to pick up through intuition alone, a one-way mirror he'd peer into when she'd grown quiet, trapped within thoughts of her own making. Without his sight, he'd been left to guess the severity of her emotions. Her silence on the subject had become deafening.


_leg·a·cy_

1\. planting seeds in a garden you never get to see.

* * *

Kanan stood in silence, allowing his lightsaber to hang freely from his fingers in the moments in between, a beacon of blue that reminded him of different days, days as colourful as Hera's eyes before she'd hide her face from view. He could feel her beyond his peripheral, studying his movements until she knew each one off by heart, committing the shape of his body, the sound of his breath, and the look in his eyes somewhere safe, an expression she'd interpret as diligence instead of frustration. Her curiosity had seeped into his thoughts like a whisper, skimming the surface of his skin until he could sense how concerned she had become in the span of a few moments, perceptive of every little thing he'd say or do in an attempt to divine his emotions. Every time he moved, shifting from one form to the next, his impression of her grew into something reminiscent of the past, a compilation of memories that failed to capture how beautiful she'd been before Maul had stripped him of his sight. She drifted through his head in time with every single swing of his arm, moving into the forefront of his mind until he could think of little else. The colour of her eyes tormented him the most, clashing against the blue of his lightsaber as though she wielded one of her own, forcing him to acknowledge why he'd left her alone in the first place. His hair had fallen from its place behind his head, but her hands found his face before he could rectify it. He closed his eyes, relishing the sensation of her fingers against the curve of his jaw, across the supple skin of his lower lip, and behind his ear, tucking his hair back in place.

"Enough," she said, resting her hand on the hilt of his lightsaber. "It doesn't take a genius to notice something's bothering you."

"Go back to sleep, Hera."

"Not without you."

"That'll take awhile," he retorted, trying to ignore how her hand felt on top of his own.

"I've known you for a long time, Kanan. Don't hide from me."

"I'm not hiding," he said, extinguishing his blade. "I'm training. You should know the difference by now."

Hera's hand drifted down and around his chin, cradling his face in a way that obstructed his line of sight. They hardly ever fought, but when they did, her stare became tempered steel, glinting in the space she'd made between them like a star on the cusp of collapsing in on itself, a phenomenon that didn't belong within the green of her eyes. Hera had always been particularly difficult to handle, exerting control over every single thing within reach, but Kanan didn't know how to confront that side of her without losing everything she'd given to him in the process. His reluctance would break her on some level, reshaping her trust in him until it had become something unrecognizable, but he was determined to stand his ground if it meant sparing her a little grief in the process. His feelings for her had formed a wedge in their relationship, disrupting the ease in which they'd normally behave in front of everyone else. He wanted to speak of it, sifting through his memories in an attempt to understand her reluctance, but he'd become more and more disillusioned with himself while doing so. Kanan's determination was nothing in comparison to her own. He leaned into the warmth of her hand, trying to let her know in his own way that he'd be fine, but she wasn't having it. Her anxiety continued to fester, thrumming beneath the tips of her fingers until their feelings were one and the same. She was afraid of how uncomfortable he'd become since she'd interrupted his forms, afraid of what his silence meant as it settled across her shoulders, and afraid of her own capacity to love, secure in the knowledge that her mouth would never betray her mind. Kanan took a deep breath in, pulling her fingers from his face so that he could feel them between his own. Some things never changed.

"You've never been able to lie to me, not since I've known you. What makes you think you can start now?"

"If I was, you'd know it, " he told her, allowing the sound of her voice to wash over him. "Believe me, I couldn't even if I tried to."

"Then _say_ something, Kanan."

"Some things are better left unsaid."

* * *

Kanan entered the fresher before anyone could get there first, gripping his shoulder hard enough to stifle some of the pain. His hair had come undone, sliding into his eyes until he had grown annoyed by it, but his meagre attempts to brush it away seemed fruitless in the face of how stupid he'd been, barely escaping with his life. He didn't know how to stop himself from descending a little further into darkness, not after watching Ezra suffer needlessly and not after witnessing the look Hera had given him during their escape, contorted into something akin to fear. He was supposed to be their leader, confident in his ability to keep everyone from harm, but there wasn't a whole lot he could do to prevent things like that from happening in the long run. Panic began to take hold, seeping into his bones until he felt as debilitated as his armour, one strike from falling apart. His emotions crashed against the walls he'd constructed around his heart in waves, searching for a way in, one he'd rooted out long before he'd met anyone worth knowing. The burden of it had him on his knees. Ezra's fearful cry haunted him hours after he'd heard it for the first time, infiltrating his memories like some sort of virus, mirroring his own voice from a time when all he'd ever known was fear. He could still feel it, an emotion he'd added to his own arsenal of things he wished would vanish, yet the feeling remained. He was barely more than a Padawan himself, revisiting the same old thoughts and fears until his head had begun to ache more than his arm. His shoulder was blistered and bloody, embodying how little he thought of his own sense of pride. His reflection in the mirror was haggard and bruised, blue eyes begging for sleep, bloodshot from being open for so long. He wanted to collapse on the floor right then and there, but something told him that his actions would incite little comfort. He looked up in resignation. Hera's eyes drilled into his own.

"You don't have to do this, you know. I can handle it."

"Not with that tone of voice," she told him, reaching for his arm. "It's okay to ask for help when you so clearly need it."

"Hey! That's unfair."

"You're being unfair," she retorted, bending over his wound to take a better look at it. "Let me help you."

Kanan couldn't help but flinch when her hand found his shoulder. He thought she'd say something snarky in response, dragging her fingers across the hem of his shirt just to watch him squirm, but she adopted a front of silence instead, placing her hand right above his heart. Her touch startled him at first, nearly as tangible as the sentences that burned between his mouth and hers, something she continued to deny in light of who they were to one another, but he had grown used to the things she refused to say out loud. Kanan wanted to bridge that gap, standing in the remnants of every little thing holding her back so he'd finally understand how she felt, but she hadn't let him close enough to see that far inside of her. He could feel her uncertainty, but more importantly, he could see how it had eaten away at her conscience, inching closer and closer to her heart on a path of self destruction. He was supposed to be the broken one, not her. Hera had always been a source of light to him, guiding him through the darkness like a star, a constant reserve of calm that had yet to cave in. She wandered through the universe with the kind of steadfast determination he could only dream of possessing himself. The weight of her fingers calmed his racing heart, taming the flames that burned within his chest, something she'd do when she thought he wasn't looking. He didn't feel so lost with her so close to him, filling his personal space like a waft of smoke, seeping into the cracks he'd forgotten about in an act that felt more natural than breathing.

"I'm going to be okay, Hera," he said, reaching for the medicine cabinet. "It's only a scratch."

"A scratch wouldn't bother you so much."

"It burns like hell if that's any consolation to you."

"That's not what I mean," she sputtered, stepping into his space. "You're more than capable of leading us through this. Ezra's lucky to have you for a teacher, and I'm lucky to have you in my life. Days like this don't define who you are, Kanan. You do."

"Let's do this together then," he said, eyeing the gash on his arm long enough to register how his shirt had been branded into it. "This is probably going to hurt an awful lot anyway."

Hera leaned forward, brushing her lips against his as lightly as possible. The sensation of her mouth was distracting to say the least, numbing his pain long enough to make him forget how conflicted he'd been moments before, but his thoughts continued to worsen until there was little he could do to push them away. There were some things he wasn't ready to tell Hera about, some battles he'd rather face alone than drag her directly into, and some days that bothered him a little more than others. He took a deep breath in, closing his eyes, content to have her within arms reach for once. Hera meant more to him than what he was willing to admit out loud. He missed how close they had been before she'd hidden her smiles from view, before he'd discovered just how addicting her mouth could be, and before they had learned how to keep it all at bay, ignoring whatever it was that had formed between them in favour of other things. He craved some sort of justification for what they had done, afraid that one day, he'd wake up to discover that none of it had been real. He couldn't function properly without her around to keep him on his toes. He didn't know why she'd begun to hide from him, retreating so far inside of herself that he'd often wonder where she'd vanish to in those moments, resurfacing when he wasn't around to watch her do it. He wanted her all to himself, detached from everything they had involved themselves in and everything they continued to delve into, relinquishing their responsibilities for the sake of being normal. Her lips reminded him of what he was fighting for, even if she was unaware of it herself. He'd fight for her, he'd fight for Ezra, and he'd fight to keep their makeshift family intact. The Galaxy could wait.

"Hey!" Ezra yelled from outside the door, pounding his fist against the durasteel for good measure. "There's only one washroom in here and I'd like to use it!"

"Just give me a sec!" he called out, pressing another kiss against Hera's mouth. "I'm a little busy at the moment!"

* * *

"It's not your fault," Kanan said, straining to keep his voice even. "Don't blame yourself, Ezra."

"If I had listened to you, none of this would have happened!"

"But it did anyway," he answered weakly, gripping Ezra's arm for dear life. "We fight for the things we love, and sometimes things go wrong."

Kanan wanted to see the look on Ezra's face, but colour had been cast aside in favour of darkness, seeping into his waking moments until his life had become as black as night. He could hear Ezra's heartbeat rattling between them like a drum, could feel his inner conflict as if it were his own, and could understand his guilt because he had felt something similar once, back when he had been nothing more than a boy himself. Master Billaba's death had scarred his heart, leaving a trail of wreckage behind that had yet to vanish from sight, wreckage that had taken him years of fortitude to acknowledge. Ezra's inner turmoil spilled into his sentences like ink, staining every word that slipped past his mouth in a way that Kanan couldn't help but hear. His heart bled anew, re-opening old wounds until he thought he'd pass out from the pain of it, infused with second-hand guilt that refused to abate. It hadn't been his intention to drag Ezra into a battle he'd spent most of his life trying to avoid, let alone endure, re-living the same things he'd been made to feel in the past, but his aspirations had fallen short. He was blind, burning up in the space he'd made between them like a dying ember, suppressing an onslaught of shame that was determined to show its face. He wasn't sure how he'd get through it all. There were many things he'd miss seeing for himself, the colour of Hera's eyes, Ezra's orange jacket, and Sabine's vibrant head of hair to name a few, but he was content in knowing that they had made it out alive. His sight meant nothing in the face of their lives, a sacrifice he'd make again if they were all breathing at the end of it, flushed pink from the tips of their fingers to the soles of their feet. He'd made enough mistakes in his life to realize that some of the things he'd done hadn't been in vain. There were lessons to be garnered from the situations they had been forced into, even if they were difficult to see.

"I should have done things differently," Ezra repeated for the third time that evening, unaware of how his voice had cracked. "I'm so useless!"

"You've never been useless to me."

"Then why do I feel like I am? Tell me what to do."

"You need to let go."

Ezra shifted his weight from one side to the other, folding his knees into his chest. "I don't know how to, not after this."

Kanan reached out blindly, searching for the curve of his shoulder. He didn't know how to ease Ezra's conscience, allowing his presence to soothe the resignation he'd heard in his voice, but for the first time in a long time, he was at a loss for words. It had taken a great deal of effort on his part to realize that guilt couldn't easily be erased. He'd spent years running away from his past, submerging his memories in liquor just to take the edge off, but it hadn't been enough. Hera had saved him before he'd gone overboard, waltzing into his life with the grace of a dancer, showing him all of the things he'd left behind in the wake of his own grief. His path of self-destruction had ruined everything he'd worked so hard to achieve in the time before he'd known her, but her support had given him the strength to carry on when he'd believed otherwise. Ezra was still so young, prone to error in ways he'd developed during his childhood, seeking refuge in places he shouldn't have faced alone. He became uncomfortable in the presence of other people, reluctant to let his guard down in fear of abandonment, evading personal inquiries as though it were some kind of game. His eyes always seemed to fade in colour in those moments, blurred at the edges like his own sense of morality, a habit Kanan had noticed time and time again. He knew without having to rely upon memory that Ezra's face had adopted the same look, providing onlookers with a direct glimpse into his tortured heart. His features had always been particularly expressive to begin with. Kanan could visualize his remorse, ignoring how his senses screamed out in protest, amplifying every sound Ezra made until he could hear nothing but tears. His heart ached more than his eyes, burning behind his ribcage like Maul's lightsaber. He could barely stand it.

"I won't let this consume you," he said after a moment, pulling him against his chest. "I've got you, Ezra. I've got you."

* * *

"I love you," Hera called out to him, holding her head high.

Kanan didn't think he'd live long enough to hear something like that slip from her mouth. He wished he could see whether or not she'd meant it with his own eyes, whether or not she'd light up at the edges the way he'd always assumed she would, but he could hear how honest she'd been as clear as day. A part of him didn't want to believe it, not after what she'd been through, but the sound of those three words had him reeling. He'd been in love with her for years, hoping that one day they'd end up together the way he'd always hoped they would. He'd grown tired of how inconsistent their relationship had become in the past few months, afraid that her responsibility to the Rebellion had wiped away their history, but she'd proven him wrong on more than one occasion, stilling his doubts. His heart seemed too big for his chest. There was only so much he could say in the middle of their getaway. She was drugged and he was resigned to his fate. Hera's heartfelt revelation seemed like some sort of delusion, a byproduct of how she'd been made to feel. His shock was almost as palpable as the look on his face, instilling a sense of unease so strong within his heart, he felt crippled by it, uprooting what remained of his resolve until emptiness had overtaken the spot she occupied beside him. His future was fixed in time, a moment he dreaded more than the circumstance surrounding it.

Kanan looked away so he wouldn't have to imagine to the expression on her face. "Must be the truth serum talking."

"No," she retorted, placing her hand on his cheek. "It's me... all _me_."

He knew right then and there that if he didn't kiss her now, he'd never have another chance to. He tried to commit the shape of her mouth into memory, branding every detail into the forefront of his mind in an attempt to mark that moment as his own, but she was too bewildering, beyond noteworthy, and his impression of her had become too overwhelming to maintain. He lost himself within her presence instead, releasing everything he'd been holding on to just to be with her. He couldn't help but stand transfixed as she embraced him, pinning him against her body in a way he'd needed more than the words she'd struggled to say out loud, shielding him from his own brutal conclusion. His perception of time had slowed, filling his last few minutes with sound, sensation, and light, things he hadn't realized he'd noticed to begin with. Hera's fingers were bare, trailing over his jaw and across the curve of his cheek, a feeling he knew he'd end up wishing for after everything had faded into oblivion. She was calm in the meantime, burning beneath his hands like a flame, steady in defiance of it all. He didn't need his sight to know exactly what she looked like in his arms. Kanan pulled her flush against his body, drawing her close enough to hear her breath, to feel her warmth, and to memorize the parts of her he'd never experience again, gripping the fabric of her shirt tightly enough to turn the tips of his fingers red. She loved him, every single piece of him, and that was enough to soothe the ache that had made its home inside of his heart. He would have kissed her a thousand times over if she'd let him, worshipping her mouth, the column of her neck, and the curve of her jaw if it meant staying with her for more than a few seconds, but he knew what the future held for him. He didn't regret how they had spent their time together, nor did he mourn the shortness of it, the minutes they had wasted bickering, or how she'd kiss the corner of his mouth in moments of respite. He'd remember every little thing about her until the very end, filling his mind with all of her idiosyncrasies, quirks, and oddities so she'd be the last thing he'd see.

Her love for him had been there all along, but he'd missed it over the sound of everything else.

* * *

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know what you want to hear, Hera."

"The truth would be a good place to start," she said angrily, struggling to stay calm.

"I love you, okay?" he said, pulling his lightsaber away from her fingers. "We've been doing this for so long now and I'm tired of it, tired of how I feel, tired of this war, and tired of watching you walk away from everything we've been through just because it isn't worth your time."

"You know that's not true!"

"Do I?" he asked, making his way back towards the Ghost. "Let me know when you change your mind."

He attached his lightsaber to his utility belt and continued onwards, trying to forget how desperate she'd sounded several moments before, but his frustration with her had yet to abate. It hadn't been his intention to lose it, wallowing in anger until he'd made a fool of himself, but her reluctance in acknowledging her own emotions had driven him over the edge. There was only so much he could do to convince her that everything would be okay, letting her know as consistantly as possible that he wouldn't disappear on her like so many others had in her life, yet for some reason, she continued to have a hard time believing him. He knew that her trust in him ran deep, but he wished he could see things from her point of view. The Empire had taken over so many things, ruining lives, controlling planets, and scaring people into submission until they'd kneel before it, but he refused to believe that Hera had let something like that deter her way of thinking. The Clone Wars had brought them together, and he wouldn't let another war tear them apart. They had fought too long and too hard to let something like that get the better of them. He wasn't able to read her mind, but sometimes, when their standoffs had become too uncomfortable to bare, he wished he could. The prospect of unraveling Hera's thoughts was appealing in its own way, easing the ache she'd made within his heart until he could breathe properly again. Her eyes had shown him things he hadn't been able to pick up through intuition alone, a one-way mirror he'd peer into when she'd grown quiet, trapped within thoughts of her own making. Without his sight, he'd been left to guess the severity of her emotions, straining to hear anything out of the ordinary in an attempt to ease her fears. Her silence on the subject had become deafening.

"Fighting again?" Ezra asked, stepping outside of his room.

"Yeah," he answered, reaching for his neck in discomfort. "Sorry for waking you up."

"It's fine, Kanan. You'll work it out."

"You think so?"

"Give her some time. She'll come around."

Kanan smiled slightly, returning the gesture. "You may be right for once."

"Yeah? I've got your back if you've got mine."

* * *

Hera slipped into Kanan's room a little while later, afraid of what he'd say if he opened his eyes to find her there. She didn't think she could handle how he'd look at her if he did, peering into the darkness in search of her face, something she'd end up feeling more than seeing. She knew he'd turn away, refusing to meet her eyes, starring off into the distance so she wouldn't see how much her words had hurt him. He didn't have to hear her sentences out loud to know exactly what she'd say when their arguments had faded into silence. His distress had become a tangible thing, casting a shadow across everything they'd worked so hard to maintain. She wasn't sure how to fix the part of him she'd damaged in her pursuit of freedom. If he left now, she knew she'd fall to pieces, unable to fulfill her role in the Rebellion, mourning the loss of his support until the sensation of his fingers had fled from her mind entirely. He was the reason behind her resolve, fuelling every decision she'd made since they'd first met on Gorse. Hera didn't know what she'd do in the event of his absence, how she'd hide her anguish, or who she'd turn into without him there to steer her in the right direction. She loved him. Her vocabulary was too inadequate to capture the depths of her feelings for him, something she knew he'd never completely understand. His apprehension mirrored her own, bursting from behind almost every word he'd say until she was certain she'd been right all along. She was reluctant to voice her feelings in fear of what it would mean if she did. He'd become someone she was unwilling to lose, someone she couldn't live without. The burden of loving him had rendered her speechless.

"If you knew how much I cared, Kanan, it would scare you," she muttered under her breath, trailing her fingers over the curve of his cheek. "It scares me."

"I know," he answered, kissing the inside of her palm.

There were some things better left unsaid after all.

* * *

 **A/N:** For nightfellart on Tumblr (Rebels Gift Exchange Event). I'm not sure how to explain the gist behind what I've written for you, but I interpreted your prompt in the weirdest way possible (I'm so sorry! I had a blast though, truly). Our lives are a compilation of moments that culminate into something bigger. Call it fate, call it destiny, but Kanan's character embodies that principle for me, and I couldn't ignore it! Love and fear go hand in hand sometimes, especially in Kanan's case, yet love has a way of overthrowing the things we're afraid of. His legacy revolves around that more than anything else.

I was inspired by "The Siege of Lothal," "Twilight of the Apprentice," and "Jedi Knight."

 **Playlist** **:** I listened to a lot of music while writing this, so I thought I'd let you know the names of those songs, the ones I kept going back to.

\- _Nobody More Than Kanan_ , _Kanan's End Credits_ , and Season Four's trailer music, all by Kevin Kiner.

\- _Unwanted Tears_ , by Philip D. Zach

\- _Where Time Goes_ , by Takahiro Kido

\- _The Consolations Of Philosophy_ , by Max Richter

\- _The Spin_ , by Greg Haines

\- _Summer 78 (1)_ , by Yann Tiersen and Claire Pichet

\- _Dream_ , by Judson Hurd

Thank you for such an awesome prompt, nightfellart! I love your art, I love your fondness for _Star Wars Rebels_ , and I loved writing this for you. Keep on keeping on!


End file.
